


If I were a sculptor but then again no

by lightningfury



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky and Tony wanna be friends so bad, Elton John - Freeform, M/M, Over-protective Cap, Sleepy Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningfury/pseuds/lightningfury
Summary: Sleepy Tony admiring Bucky. Steve is not appreciative.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 400





	If I were a sculptor but then again no

Tony watched the curls of steam raising from his cup of coffee. Distracted by something moving just beyond that he lifted his eyes to watch the Winter Soldier strut around the kitchen. Tony knew the man didn’t mean to strut. It was obvious that the weight of that old metal arm weighed him down. Still Tony couldn’t deny the appeal of watching the man strut.

He was beautiful. He’d been beautiful when Tony was young. Smiling and laughing on those old black and white reels his father had but James Buchanan Barnes in living color was a work of art.

Tony watched him sleepily as he moved around the kitchen gathering the things he was making for his morning meal. Soon bacon began to sizzle in the hot pan but Tony paid it less mind than he did the way James’ plush lips pursed as he hummed some little song to himself. The shadows on his cheeks. The way the scruff on his jaws accentuated rather that detracted from the angles of his jaw and cheekbones, the cleft in his strong chin. The rich brown of his hair falling softly down to his broad shoulders not quite hiding the long elegant neck.

He’d give HYDRA this. As heavy as the arm was it was perfectly in proportion to the Soldier’s other. Tony could do it better but Captain America had yet to let Tony get anywhere near his BFF. In fact this might be the closest the Mechanic had been to the Soldier in months. Since the man had first been brought in and Cap had reluctantly let Tony do the most immediate maintenance needed. Afterwards Tony knew Cap had let Coulson’s little engineer do the work. 

No it did not still sting that Cap had trusted the lying liar death defier rather than Tony to help him find the Soldier. That he still trusted SHIELD rather than Tony. It didn’t. It was fine.

Tony returned to his idle study of the Soldier. Those lovely shoulders, the long muscles of his back, the delicious build of his chest. The jut of his hips. The perfect curve of his buttocks. And his legs. Those thick thighs and those gams as the 40’s boy would call them, Good God. 

Sometimes when Tony looked at the Captain he immediately thought of an action figure. Hard molded plastic, bright pale peach skin, perfect hard molded hair. G.I. Joe in all his glory.

The Soldier, however, more closely resembled a marble statue sculpted by a master. Michelangelo would have wept to have James as a subject. The man was a perfectly formed work of art. Rather than distract from his perfection in Tony’s not at all humble opinion the metal arm added to the overall effect.

Tony wasn’t distracted from his silent appreciation of the Soldier as he moved about the kitchen. Not by the light tune the man hummed nor the delectable smells that came together under his hands. No Tony’s appreciation was interrupted by the rude entry of the aforementioned action figure.

“Stark!”

Any other time and Tony might have jerked or flinched but after 48 hours in the workshop Tony barely blinked. He did notice that The Soldier had tensed all those delicious back muscles of his at the Captain’s entrance. It made some interesting patterns to follow but Tony thought it looked a little painful.

“You mind not objectifying my best friend.” Action Figure Man, now with crossed bulging arms and Judgemental face stared at Tony.

Tony blinked and reluctantly lifted his head mourning the quiet unwind he’d been enjoying. He’d had some vague hope of sleep after this. Not to be now as he felt the anxiety crawling up his back, tightening his chest, and prickling his limbs. The spell cast by James’ visage had been broken. He idly wondered if James would agree to sit for a sculptor. Tony didn’t know if anyone but one of the old masters could really capture such beauty but Tony could certainly pay today’s best to try. He’d put the work of art in his living room and after a long day he’d sit and enjoy it until all the tension had drained from his body.

“Simply enjoying artwork. Not to worry. Stay behind the velvet rope. Do not touch. Got it.” Tony pushed himself to his feet wearily. He blinked away the dryness in his eyes and he lifted the now cold coffee to his lips and gulped it down. Over the rim of the cup he caught The Soldier’s inexplicably sad eyes. He was gorgeous when he pouted but Tony was willing to bet he was indescribably beautiful when he smiled like he had back in those old black and white reels. To see that in color…

“What are you talking about?”

Tony glanced at Captain America. “You ever drawn him? Your buddy here. Bet he’s one hell of a model.”

“Wasn’t quite done in the 40s.”

“Ain’t the 40s now. If I were a sculptor," Tony apused his lips quirking in a smirk, "but then again no. Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show.” Tony sung the last few lines as he headed towards the elevator that would take him down instead of up like he’d planned. He steadied himself to hide the sway and stumble as his tired limbs trembled as he moved. He was sure if The Widow was here her keen eyes would have noticed but The Captain wouldn’t. It didn’t occur to Tony that The Soldier would care at all. The beautiful man never looked at Tony. Not anymore.

“What are you on about now?” The Captain groused.

That made Tony pause. That anyone on Earth didn’t know Elton John was a crime against humanity. “Friday play Elton John’s Your Song.” The first few notes of the piano played before The Captain barked out the order for it to stop.

“Stop that. I’m so sick and tired of your theme songs.”

Tony half turned to look at them and stiffened his spine to prevent the drunken sway his head wanted to follow. “Elton John is a gift from God, much like your friend there, and should always be appreciated. Besides you’d like that song. It fits your friend there perfectly.”

“That you think that is even more reason not to listen to it.” The Captain said dryly.

Tony didn’t sigh. He was long past that. His shoulders didn’t slump. He’d schooled his expression to one of blank nonchalance as soon as the Captain had entered the room and even tired the mask held. He turned back around and walked out.

Behind him though in the kitchen silent and tense James sighed as he finished plating the two breakfasts.

Steve of course took it as relief instead of despondence. “Don’t worry. As soon as your pardon’s cleared we’ll move into the Compound with the other Avengers. I don’t know why that damned Accords Council put you in Tony’s custody in the first place.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder firmly before grabbing a plate. “Thanks for breakfast Buck. You shouldn’t have.”

James’ mouth tightened but he didn’t say anything. ‘I didn’t make it for you, Punk. That was meant to be Tony’s.’ He didn’t say it though. Stubborn punk had a mental block as big as the Empire State Building in the shape of one Tony Stark. It didn’t matter what the man did it was wrong. He could save the whole damn city and then descend from the Heavens like an angel and Steve would still find some way to vilify the man. Steve’s precious Bucky showing any kindness towards the man? Well clearly Stark, walking evil that he was, had subverted poor Bucky’s will.

James had learned all that the hard way the first few weeks here. Smirk at Tony’s snark and Steve would snarl at the man. Thank the man for his work on his arm and Steve would interrupt saying it was the least Tony could do. Try to thank Tony for literally anything and watch Steve puff up to berate the Mechanic. Simply looking at the man with the same appreciation Tony had shown him earlier would have Steve chasing the man out of the room. If James didn’t know better he’d think the punk was jealous. It got to the point where James stopped interacting with Tony at all just to spare him Steve’s vitriol.

James grabbed his plate and his own cup of coffee and headed to his room. Steve choked around his food behind him. It had been a nice morning. Coming in to see a softly dozing Tony looking soft and tired. His hair still damp from a shower but slowly fluffing up. He’d gently sat a hot cup of coffee down in front of him and Tony had given him a small sleepy smile. 

He’d remember his Ma singing at the stove from when he was young and unconsciously started humming as he got breakfast going. He shot Tony glances every few seconds enjoying how the man was still half asleep, relaxed and vulnerable. 

He got to his room and shut the door in Steve’s face. He had trouble standing up to the punk nowadays but he’d managed to put his foot down about his room. His therapist had backed him up on this. It was his space and it was sacred to him. He couldn’t help but remember how he’d come in one day to find Steve going through his journals and he shuddered. It was one of the only times Tony had stood up to Steve as well. James’ room was reinforced all around and constantly monitored by FRIDAY. No one in or out but him. He’d slept a lot better after that no matter what Steve claimed.

He sat down at his desk with his breakfast ignoring the knock on the door. “Miss Friday?”

“Yes Sgt. James?”

“Can you play that song Mr. Stark wanted for me?”

“Of course.”

Again the soft piano started.

By the end of it James’ eyes were wet. “I don’t mind. Could you tell him that for me? That I don’t mind? Steve’s a pain in the ass about everything but I really don’t.” James sighed.

“I shall pass it on for you.” Typically James could hear when the audio device turned on and off when Friday was about to speak but this time there wasn’t a stop. Evident when she spoke again. “You know Sgt. James. You could just talk to the Boss over the phone. Out of sight out of mind for the Captain.”

“I don’t have a phone. Steve thought the new technology would be too much for me.” James grit his teeth. Punk forgot he was the one regularly thawed out. Sure he wasn’t up on Tony’s bleeding edge tech but he could work a goddamn cellphone.

“Hmmm…” the AI said. “I shall relay your message to the Boss.”

Down in the workshop Tony laid out the tools he needed for his next project. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly as he slumped over the workbench.

“Boss. A message from Sgt. James.”

“Huh? What?”

A recording of the end of Elton John’s Your song played before James’ voice kind of low and rough came on. “I don’t mind. Could you tell him that for me? That I don’t mind? Steve’s a pain in the ass about everything but I really don’t.”

“Huh?” Tony said again eloquently.

“I suggested to him that perhaps talking to you through the phone would be easier but he has express frustration that Captain Rogers has prevented him from using the phone you originally provided him with.”

“Dick move. Commission a new phone for him. Different number and everything, then hide it somewhere and tell him where it is privately. Have my number already entered.”

“Can do Boss.”

Who knew maybe there was still a chance for him and this boyhood idol to be friends? The hope rose weakly in him and he tried to hold it down. He was tired though. With James’ message a little of the tension had drained from him again and he stumbled to the old couch to lie down for a few moments. A few moments after that he was asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
